Scars Challenge
by IMTheresa
Summary: In response to P.L. Wynter's Scars Challenge... just how did Dean get that scar on his arm? A little fluff.


_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural; I just like to hang out with the boys every now and then._

_A/N: This is in response to P.L. Wynter's Scars Challenge… a little different, but I hope you like it._

The Winchester brothers walked into yet another motel room, having spent the last few hours searching the woods for whatever had been terrorizing several small towns in the area. Their father sent a text message to Dean's cell phone with coordinates that lead them to the town they were now in, and his journal had an entry detailing strange lights in the woods. After spending the afternoon researching, they spent the evening looking for anything which could help them figure out what was going on.

"Dude, I'm fine!" Dean grumbled as Sam reached out to steady him. "Back off."

Sam smiled to himself and dropped the weapons bag onto the floor. Dean had thought it would be a good idea to get a higher view of the area so, despite Sam's warning, he climbed a tree hoping to see the lights. Unfortunately it rained earlier in the day, and his boots slipped on a moss-covered branch. A pile of wet leaves padded his fall, but his shoulder hit a protruding stick that managed to pierce the skin through two layers of shirts.

He stiffly slipped out of the first shirt.

"Your shoulder's bleeding." Sam noticed. "Let me take a look."

"It's fine."

"Let me take a look." Sam insisted.

He took the first aid kit from another duffle bag as Dean pulled the t-shirt over his head. He grunted, tossing it aside and sitting down in one of the chairs. Sam stood behind him and snagged an alcohol swab from the kit. He felt Dean stiffen as he cleaned the wound.

"It doesn't look too bad." Sam said. He reached for the antibiotic cream and bandages, stopping when he saw a scar he didn't recognize. "Dean?"

"What?"

"Where'd you get this?" he asked, touching the back of his brother's arm.

"Get what?" Dean groused.

"This scar?" Sam touched it again.

"You expect me to remember every scar?"

"You have so far." Sam said quietly as he dressed the fresh wound.

"Whatever, Dude."

Once Sam was finished, Dean quickly stood up and grabbed a shirt at random from his bag. Sam could tell it hurt him to slip it over his head, but Dean was as stoic as he'd ever been. He handed him two ibuprofen tablets and a bottle of water. "Well?"

"Well, what?" Dean complained, slowly settling on one of the beds.

"Where'd you get that scar? Sam asked, cleaning up the supplies he'd used.

Dean looked at his brother and knew Sam wasn't going to let this go. He sighed. "It happened right after you left for Stanford."

Sam sat on the bed across from him and Dean took a long sip of the water.

"It's no big deal."

"Then tell me."

"Sam –"

"Tell me." he insisted.

"Fine." Dean growled. "Dad and I had split up to work two small jobs; I was on a poltergeist gig. Damn thing was harassing a single mom and her three daughters. The youngest one had just turned thirteen – you know, prime age for the whole poltergeist thing."

Sam watched as Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"The mom took the girls to a movie while I worked on cleansing the house." Dean stopped. "Look, this is really no big deal. I have more interesting scars."

"Uh - huh. But this is the one you don't want to tell me about."

"Fine." Dean growled. "So I finished the cleansing and went to a bar near the college to celebrate a job well done. I ended up going back to my room with the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You are so kidding me."

"I never kid about gorgeous women." Dean said solemnly, a hand over his heart. "And kinky? Whew! She was kinky."

"I changed my mind. I don't want to hear this."

"Okay." Dean said. "But it involves handcuffs."

"Dude – "

"Whipped cream."

"Stop it."

"Candle wax."

"Shut up." Sam walked to the bathroom. "You are so not right."

Dean grinned to himself, but a moment later he was touching the scar and thinking back to when he got it. He really had been working a job on his own, but on his way to the house where the poltergeist was terrorizing the family, he was attacked by a woman skilled in black magic. John had been trying to find a way to break a curse she'd put on a friend of one of his contacts. The scar did involve candle wax and handcuffs, but she was far from the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, it had nothing to do with kinky sex and it was in no way consensual.

She had left him, burned and unconscious, at John's doorstep as a warning for him to back off.

Dean heard the bathroom door open and returned to smirking.

"So not right." Sam said again, as he pulled down the covers on his bed.

"Leather." Dean said.

Sam turned off the light. "Shut up."

"Spiked heels."

There was just enough light sneaking in through the split in the curtain for Dean to see Sam put the pillow over his face.

"Whips."

Sam screamed through the pillow and Dean smiled to himself. He was sure Sam would never ask about that particular scar, and probably none of the other scars, again. Sam was his brother, the person closest to him on the planet, but there were some things Dean refused to share even with him.

"Chains."

"Shut up, Dude!" Sam rolled over, his back to his brother.

"G'night, Sammy." Dean said quietly and closed his eyes.


End file.
